


The Third (Best) Choice

by helsinkibaby



Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Het, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: After leaving Christine DePriest’s house, Jubal doesn’t know whether to go home or go to a meeting. A third choice presents itself.
Relationships: Kristen Chazal/Jubal Valentine
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	The Third (Best) Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Post ep to “Studio Gangster”

Standing outside Christine Depriest’s house, Jubal stares at the closed front door for a long time before he makes himself move. Trudging back to his car, he cranks up the heat and blows into his hands, a quick glance at the clock on the dash letting him know that it’s far too late to continue on to Westchester tonight. He turns back towards the city, spends the drive pondering between going home and going to a meeting but when he turns down a quiet street that he hadn’t even considered, a third option presents itself. 

Only when he’s standing on her stoop does he pause. It’s late after all and he can’t see any lights on in the apartment. He hadn’t made plans to come over, had hardly talked to her at all over the last couple of days, so caught up in this case and his history. Maybe she won’t even want to see him, he thinks, and he slips the key back into his pocket, takes a step down the block towards his car. 

Then he stops. 

Turns and looks up. 

Takes his cell phone out of his pocket and studies it. 

Two rings, he promises himself. Enough to get her attention if she’s awake, not enough to disturb her if she isn’t. 

The phone rings once. 

Then twice. 

He’s lowering the handset when he hears her voice. “Hello?” 

The rush of relief that goes through him is heavier than any shot of scotch, almost enough to send him lightheaded. “Hey, it’s me.” 

“I know.” Kristen giggles but it’s a sleepy one. “I keep telling you about caller ID...”

The fact that she can tease him, like she so often does, about the advances of technology that he knows nothing about, is a good sign, he decides. “Were you asleep?” 

“No.” The yawn that follows belies the word. “Okay, nearly. Where are you?” He pauses for a second before he replies, knowing it’s his last chance to back out, his last chance to be unselfish, to turn around and not burden her with his troubles. The pause lasts a second too long though, because she prompts him with a curious, “Jubal?” 

His ex had often accused him of being selfish. Knowing he’s probably about to prove her right, he sighs. “Outside your apartment.” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “Why didn’t you use your key?” 

He shrugs even though she can’t see him. “It’s late... I didn’t know if you were sleeping, I didn’t want to disturb you and-”

“Jubal.” He fancies he can picture the look on her face that goes with that voice, her eyes dancing with amusement, a soft smile on her lips. “Get up here.” 

He doesn’t have to be told twice. 

Once inside her apartment, he doesn’t bother with turning on the lights, hangs up his coat and toes off his shoes in the entryway, makes his way to her bedroom purely by memory. Pushing the door open, he sees she’s switched on her bedside lamp, but that’s the only concession she’s made to his presence. Lying on her side facing the door, her eyes are closed and she’s half hugging the pillow on his side of the bed - and when, he wonders, had it become his side? - and she’s wearing a T-shirt that he’s fairly sure used to be his. 

She’s a sight for sore eyes and for a moment, he indulges himself, just stands and looks at her. 

Until she opens a sleepy eye and smiles a sleepy smile and then he can’t not be beside her. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, runs a hand over her hair and enjoys the way that she almost purrs at his touch. “Hey,” he whispers and she actually shivers under his hand, gooseflesh clearly visible on her skin. 

He will never, ever get tired of that. 

“Where were you?” she asks and he swallows hard but he doesn’t move his hand. 

“Westchester.” 

A frown appears. “Your kids?” 

He shakes his head. “No.” Her frown deepens and he sighs. “Isobel didn’t tell you?” 

Kristen was the best analyst he’d ever met and he’d been afraid to ask Isobel who she’d got to pull the records detailing his history with Christine. Then again, she was more than capable of pulling records all by herself and considering he was about fifty percent sure that she knew about him and Kristen, she might not have wanted to put Kristen in that position. It’s a hunch that’s confirmed when Kristen shifts, rolls so she’s on her back, looking up at him. “No.” Her hand finds his and she laces their fingers together. “And I didn’t go looking... I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” 

Her complete faith in him chokes him up for a second and he has to clear his throat before he can speak. “I’m sorry I’ve been... distracted.” 

“You’re here now.” She sits up, her free hand going to his chest. It rests over his heart for a moment, then moves across to the buttons of his shirt. She nimbly flicks the top one open, then starts to make her way down. “Come to bed,” she whispers. “Tell me everything.” 

Once again, he doesn’t have to be told twice. 

When he’s stripped to his boxers she scoots back, holds up the covers and he slides in beside her. She wraps herself around him, her head over his heart, one hand across his hip. Tangling their legs together, she gives an exaggerated little shiver. “You’re freezing.” 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re not.” Another kiss. “We can do this in the morning you know.” 

“Jubal.” This time, the look matches the tone exactly in that it’s reminiscent of the look that had been on his mom’s face the one and only time Jubal had spectacularly failed a calculus test through sheer lack of effort. 

He starts talking. He tells her everything. About jamming up Christine five years ago, about how she wouldn’t turn on her boyfriend. About Maya growing up in foster care, about how her life could have been different if only he’d made different choices. He doesn’t spare himself either, tells her everything he didn’t tell Isobel about alcohol and his ego and how his life had been falling apart at the time. “I screwed up,” he says finally. “I knew it wasn’t right, even back then. But I still did it.” 

“And today, you made a different choice.” Her chin is propped up on his chest, her eyes dark and huge as she looks up at him, unblinking. There’s total trust, total faith there, just like there is in her voice. He knows he doesn’t deserve it and it makes him shake his head. 

“But then...”

“The man you are now isn’t the man you were then,” she counters, interrupting him and he certainly can’t argue with that. “And I hate to ruin whatever idea you have of me,” she continues with a gentle smile “but I never thought you were perfect.” She ducks her head, presses her lips against his collarbone. It makes him shiver. “You’re a good man, Jubal. I’ve seen enough bad ones to know the difference.” 

He tightens his hold on her, as if doing that could shield her from the memory of any man who’d ever hurt her. “What did I do,” he wonders, “to deserve you?” 

Her smile turns into a grin. “Just lucky I guess.” 

Jubal brings his hand to her cheek, cupping it gently. His thumb moves up and down as his eyes meet hers. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.” 

He kisses her then, and they don’t talk for a long time. 

It might have been a rough few days, but it’s a good way to end them.


End file.
